


Touched by Madison

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds that things aren't going so smoothly in the aftermath of "Common Ground"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched by Madison

**Author's Note:**

> reference to traumas such as rape (though rape does not take place in the story)

**Story Notes:**

  
Episode tag for Common Ground. My first foray into serious slash!

  
Thanks again to my beta, Eclipse, for making sure the sentences flow well, the commas are in the right places and the technical references are accurate!

* * *

>   
> It was just another mission gone bad. It wasn't like they hadn't had any of _those_ before. Okay, so the whole being held hostage thing was a little intense. Especially with the Wraith involved. But damn if he hadn't been able to sweet-talk the Wraith into helping them both escape—who says charm isn't a useful weapon to have in your armory? And against all odds, he'd survived it and made it back home. More or less intact. Okay, so he had come pretty close to dying there and he has been pretty certain he _was_ going to die, but then the Wraith pulled a fast one on him and reversed the feeding process and here he was, as good as new. Maybe even better. No permanent damage. Back to work and business as usual, right?
> 
>   
>  The first inkling he had that maybe he wasn't going to get over it so easily came on his return when Elizabeth swept down the stairs to give him one of her little hugs. They had just come back through the Gate; he knew that Kolya had sent a live feed back to Atlantis during his torture sessions and that everyone was well aware of what had happened to him. Poor Liz; she must have been beside herself with horror, frustration and anger. So when she charged down the stairs calling his name and came over to quickly embrace him, he allowed it; he didn't pull away. But something inside him seized at the contact and he had to remind himself rapidly that if he punched out the expedition leader, he was probably going to spend a looooong time in a padded room somewhere with Dr. Kate Heightmeyer blinking sadly at him from her side of the glass.
> 
>   
> Elizabeth must have felt his rigid posture because she let him go almost as soon as she grabbed him. She stood at less than arm's length as she told him how very glad she was that he had made it back to them alive once again. _Too close. Too close_. He made some stupid, off the cuff comment because that was what was expected of him and he smiled at her, though it _felt_ as though his skin had been tightly stretched over the bones of his skull and he broke the expression immediately, afraid he looked like a grinning skeleton.
> 
>   
>  Elizabeth had merely given him an odd look and suggested that he stop by the infirmary before getting some rest. Doctor Carson Beckett had given him a searching look as he conducted his physical exam. He permitted the Scottish doctor to perform the exam because it was his duty and it was necessary and it might well provide useful information about the Wraith that they could use in their ongoing war against them. But in order to remain calm while Carson conducted his exam, he had to distract his mind by working one of the more esoteric math theorems that Rodney McKay insisted on challenging him with from time to time. When Carson began peering intently at his chest and leaned in for a closer look however, he was no longer able to control his automatic need to pull back.
> 
>   
> "Odd that," Carson was saying to himself. "There doesn't appear to be any visible signs of scarring, not like a typical Wraith feeding..." He reached out to probe more closely between the chest hairs and John caught his wrist in a vise-like grip. They'd stood there for a moment. Carson's mouth puckered in a little 'oh!' of surprise, while John breathed heavily and held the wrist tight. He suddenly let go, ran his hand up through his hair and took a step backward, apologizing even as Carson was doing the same. They sounded like a bad comedy routine for a second, with each of them saying repeatedly, "No, no, _I'm_ sorry!"
> 
>   
>  Carson rubbed his wrist a moment, cradling it protectively before saying at last, "You know, this kind of reaction is only to be expected. You've been through a lot today. It'll take a bit of time to run these blood samples. Perhaps you could go back to your quarters, maybe lie down for a while? Why don't you take a few days off?"
> 
>   
> He just nodded numbly and got dressed again. On his way out the door, Carson reached for his arm to stop him briefly for another word and he found himself violently swinging out of reach. He could tell the overreaction concerned Carson and he tried to joke his way out of it. Carson wasn't buying it though. He'd suggested that if John was still this 'touchy' in a few days, that he should make an appointment with Kate. He wasn't making it a request either. He did though, tell John that he himself was available at any time, should John want to talk.
> 
>   
> The 'few days' passed and instead of getting better, his need to keep people at a distance only got worse. In a crazy sort of way, it was amusing because he could tell exactly how close certain people were to him without any visual input at all. The better he knew the person, the further they could move into his personal space, but everyone had to stop just outside a two foot radius. If anyone moved in closer than that, the need to pull away became almost overwhelming. His skin crawled with sensation when anyone was _too_ near; it was practically electrical in nature. The hardest one had been Teyla. The two of them were close; she was family. She was one of the few people that he ever allowed to touch him on any sort of regular basis and it hurt him to see the look on her face when he pulled back suddenly from her contact. He'd tried explaining that it wasn't her, but that wasn't entirely true. He could sense that tiny trace of Wraith in her blood now in a way that he had never been aware of before and his body recoiled at her presence.
> 
>   
>  And it wasn't just that he couldn't bear having anyone too close to him. There was the simmering anger that boiled underneath the surface all the time now. It had come to a head one night when he woke from a restless sleep full of vaguely unpleasant images. He'd stumbled into the small bathroom to run cold water over his face and had been startled by his reflection in the mirror when he'd stood up from the sink. Overlaying his features seemed to be the image of the old man he had been and was still yet to become. Seized with a sudden flashpoint of rage, he'd hit the mirror with his forearms and fists, succeeding in cutting his elbow as he smashed the glass. He'd almost not been able to stop the bleeding, had almost needed to wake Carson up in the middle of the night to meet him in the infirmary. Almost. He'd managed to hold pressure on the cut long enough to stop the blood from seeping through the towel and finally was able to wrap it until he could get a proper bandage. It probably needed stitches. It was going to scar. He was perversely glad that he now had a new scar-in-the-works though. It had been unnerving to see the unmarred perfection of his skin since he'd been touched by the Wraith. Touched. It made him feel tainted somehow.
> 
>   
> In the end, it was Ronon who pinned him on it. Almost literally. He had been heading down the hallway to his quarters, only to find his passage blocked by the Satedan's imposing form.
> 
>   
> "You." Ronon nodded his head at him. "You've got to cut this out."
> 
>   
> "Er, ah. Okay." It always paid to agree with Ronon.
> 
>   
> Ronon wasn't buying it any more than Carson had. It seemed his famous charm wasn't working on anyone any more. Not since the Wraith.
> 
>   
> "You can't fool me." For emphasis, Ronon moved in suddenly towards him and John hissed and side-stepped. "You see?"
> 
>   
> "Fine." John snapped, all feelings of caution slipping away. "What the hell do you want me to do about it?"
> 
>   
> Ronon stepped back and causally leaned one impressive shoulder against the wall. "I've seen this before." He was speaking softly for Ronon. "You gotta get this out of your system. You were trapped. You were tortured. You're pissed. You've got a _right_ to be pissed. But if you don't make a hole and let this shit out, it's gonna eat you up inside. Poison. That's what it is."
> 
>   
>  It was a long speech for Ronon. John also knew that Ronon had more right to this attitude he was currently copping than anyone else in the galaxy. It made him ashamed that he wasn't handling things better than this. "What do you suggest?" He eyed the Satedan warily.
> 
>   
> Ronon gave an absolutely feral grin. "Spar with me."
> 
>   
> "Um, Ronon. I'm thinking, _not_ such a good idea." John usually managed to avoid sparring with Ronon whenever possible ever since he'd first sized up the Satedan's fighting skills. He had a pretty good mental image of their first encounter entailing his being hefted like a rag doll and thrown across the gym.
> 
>   
>  "It's a great idea." Ronon frowned and then made that expression that passed for a smile. "No holding back. You can pound the shit out of me if you want. Well, you can try at any rate."
> 
>   
> Reluctantly, John agreed although he still thought it was a pretty crappy idea. He arranged to face Ronon in the training area late that night, not wanting an audience. They made the formal presentation of stick weapons and then Ronon informed him that he'd better fight for all he was worth because _he_ had no intention of holding back. And they had begun. When it degenerated from a choreographed routine of stick fighting into a no-holds barred bare-knuckled fist-fight, he had no idea. He had this weird sense of elation because his intense desire that no one get too close to him seemed to work to his advantage here; Ronon was having a hard time landing a punch. He could tell too that the ferocity of his attack surprised the Satedan but it wasn't like he was fighting Ronon anymore. It was Wraith and Genii, Kolya and iratus bugs, and every damned thing in this galaxy that had tried to kill him over the last few years all rolled together in a very solid six foot four package. When Ronon finally pinned his arms to his sides and they both crashed to the ground, John howled his rage and fought back violently.
> 
>   
>  He barely registered the fact that someone was yelling, "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it right now!" He only knew that Ronon suddenly released him and he felt someone pulling on his shoulder. He spun around with a right hook straight up at the person holding him and was treated to the sight of Rodney flying backwards as his fist connected with Rodney's face.
> 
>   
> "Oh shit." John was shocked, all the rage draining out of him at once. Rodney landed hard on his ass, almost cracking his head backwards on the floor before collapsing unmoving with one hand over his eye. His laptop bag had flown off his shoulder at the impact and skittered across the floor. John scrabbled over to his side and looked down at him. "Jeez, Rodney. I'm so sorry."
> 
>   
> "You hit me!" Rodney accused.
> 
>   
> "I didn't know it was you."
> 
>   
> "And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Rodney removed his hand and squinted up at him, the skin around the left eye already turning various shades of red and purple.
> 
>   
> "I was sparring with Ronon," he said, by way of explanation. He glanced back at Ronon, who had risen from the floor and was making his way over.
> 
>   
> "Is _that_ what you call it? I could hear the screaming all the way down the hall and when I get here, it looks like the two of you are trying to kill each other." He struggled to sit up. Feeling bad, John reached for his elbow but stopped midway during the gesture, unable to make the contact, leaving Rodney to right himself unassisted.
> 
>   
>  "Damnit, McKay." Ronon grumbled. "You would have to interrupt the best damn workout I've had since I got here." He inspected a bleeding wound on his bicep. "You bit me, Sheppard." He seemed almost pleased.
> 
>   
> "You'd better check to see if he's been vaccinated for rabies." Rodney shrugged off Ronon's proffered hand to get to his feet, glaring at John as he smoothed his shirt back down into the waistband of his pants. "You should post warning signs when you plan crap like this, so no one else gets sucked into your weird little male-bonding rituals."
> 
>   
> "Rodney, really I..."
> 
>   
> "Save it, Colonel." Rodney said stiffly. "I have a date with an ice pack." He stalked his way over to the door, picking up the laptop bag, hefting it back on his shoulder and leaving without another word. John stared after him.
> 
>   
> "He'll get over it." Ronon was unconcerned. "What about you? Feel better?"
> 
>   
> Oddly enough, he did. The rage had pretty much been burned out—the shock of realizing that he had punched Rodney hard enough to hurt him had pretty much settled all that. And the weird personal energy barrier seemed to have dissipated as well; no longer did he feel compelled to keep everyone at such a precise distance. As long as no one made actual physical contact with him, he was fine. So he called himself better and decided it was much like the time he'd been in a car accident as a young boy. For months afterwards, any sort of peripheral movement out of the corner of his eye had the power to make him flinch and brace for impact. It had eventually subsided into normal caution and that was that. This aversion to touch was the same thing. It would go away eventually.
> 
>   
> So he settled back into his routine. They went on several more missions with no overt trauma involved. Rodney spent about a week insisting that he had walked into a door, which led to wild speculation about what had really happened and John cheerfully fed all the fires of gossip. He went back to hanging around the labs and to sparring with Teyla again, much to her obvious relief and pleasure. Just no touching, thank you very much and finally, eventually, it seemed that most people got the message and stayed out of his space. About the time he thought he was really, completely over it, the dreams began.
> 
>   
> Only they didn't really seem to be dreams per se, as much as incredibly vivid memories. He would close his eyes at night and feel the plunge of the Wraith's hand into his chest, feel the pull of his life's energy from within every cell of his body, feel the desiccation and the withering from the inside out as muscle and sinew succumbed to the dreadful drain of resources. Feel the thickening of the joints and the thinning of the skin. Feel the internal scream building even as his body grew weaker. The first time, the unexpected sensation hit him with such force that he'd gotten up and gone straight into the bathroom to vomit violently into the toilet. With time, his body's reaction to the memories became less intense but they haunted him just the same. Night after night, sleep eluded him as the horribly realistic memories repeated in a vicious loop.
> 
>   
> Then one night, just as his body recalled the moment of his impending death, the sensation of reverse feeding occurred. Still crushing his body with pain, the memory carried with it too the sudden flooding of arterial vessels with blood, the rush of new life into his cells, the almost orgasmic return of youth and vigor. He began to walk the halls of the city at night after that, anything to avoid closing his eyes and beginning the cycle of drain and renewal all over again.
> 
>   
> It was on one of these midnight ramblings that he went looking for Rodney. He'd noticed a long time ago that the astrophysicist seemed to function on as little sleep as he did himself. Having taken to wandering the parts of Atlantis that he knew would be unoccupied at such late hours, he had not seen much of Rodney though. Tonight however, exhausted beyond belief and afraid that if he sat down for even an instant the memories would start to replay, he deliberately sought out the cranky scientist. He'd almost given up on finding him when he spied Rodney's booted feet sticking out from under a console in one of the labs.
> 
>   
> "Hey." The feet jerked, but remained where they were.
> 
>   
> "Major?" The voice was querulous but Rodney did not break from his task.
> 
>   
> "Colonel." John corrected. He swore there was some purpose to Rodney's repeated inability to remember his rank. There were times when he almost thought he could see a pattern, a desire to needle him, to put him in his place perhaps, but then it would disappear for a while and Rodney would not make the 'mistake'.
> 
>   
> "Yes, yes, right, right. Colonel. Whatever." A pause and then, "What are you doing down here?"
> 
>   
> "I could ask you the same."
> 
>   
> Rodney did make an appearance now, huffing his way out from within the console, waving a wrench. "Well, 'if some people wouldn't insist on eating and drinking right next to the 10,000 year old equipment'..." It sounded as if he were parroting a line he had heard before, liked and adopted as his own.
> 
>   
> "This has to be fixed _now_?" John was skeptical. "It couldn't wait until the morning?"
> 
>   
>  "The morning will bring a new set of problems." Rodney said cryptically, wiping his hands on a small towel, which he tossed aside on the console before getting back to his feet. "And you're here, because...?"
> 
>   
> "No particular reason. If you must know, I couldn't sleep." John shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling small and wishing he had continued his solitary ramblings.
> 
>   
> "Major."
> 
>   
> "Colonel."
> 
>   
> "Whatever." Rodney frowned at him. "When are you going to admit something is wrong with you?"
> 
>  _Whoa_. John felt like he'd taken a punch to the gut. "I'm fine," he insisted.
> 
>   
>  Rodney rolled his eyes in an ' _oh, yeah, right_ ' kind of way. "Look, Colonel." He began ticking off points on his fingers. "How long has it been now? You still won't let anyone touch you. You don't touch anyone yourself. And even more truly bizarre is that you no longer flirt with everything that moves." He paused, blue eyes assessing John sharply. "When was the last time you got laid?"
> 
>   
> "McKay!" John protested. Jeez. This guy was obsessed with his sex life. He needed to get a life of his own, John decided. "I'm fine. Everything is fine," he insisted.
> 
>   
> "Which is why you can't sleep and are prowling the halls at all hours like a twitchy alley cat. Have you thought about talking with Dr. Heightmeyer?"
> 
>   
> John repressed a shudder. "I did talk to her...once. A few weeks back."
> 
>   
> "And..." Rodney prompted, folding his arms across his broad chest.
> 
>   
> "And..." John's breath caught and he tried again. "She had some ideas about...she called it 'flooding'. Something about putting me in a box of grain so that I couldn't move at all and having people...touching me."
> 
>   
> "Eee-yeww." Rodney made a face. "That's creeping me out and I don't even have a problem with being touched. Well, not much anyway. I mean, depending on who's doing the...oh hell, never mind."
> 
>   
> His reaction made it easy for John to give a little laugh. Okay, so Kate's proposed plan _was_ a little weird, it wasn't just him.
> 
>   
>  "Sooo," Rodney's tone became assessing once more. "What are you going to do about it? You've managed to carry it off pretty well so far, but it has to be getting a little old, doesn't it?"
> 
>   
> "It's nothing I can't handle."
> 
>   
> "Okay, fine." Rodney turned back to the console, his demeanor deliberately nonchalant. "If you don't want any assistance in addressing this in a logical manner..."
> 
>   
> "Oh and you have a logical means of solving this little problem." He couldn't help it; the need to rattle Rodney's chain was too strong.
> 
>   
> Rodney responded by wheeling a chair out in front of John and patting the back of the seat. "Sit, sit." He invited, taking care to step back from the chair as he did so.
> 
>   
> John waited a long moment, looking at the chair and then Rodney's expectant face before he grudgingly took a seat. Rodney clasped his hands together and rubbed his palms with satisfaction. John almost got up and left then, but decided at the last second to hear Rodney out.
> 
>   
> "Sooo..." Rodney was saying. "You can't stand being touched. Does this apply to everyone?"
> 
>   
> "Pretty much." John conceded.
> 
>   
> "Everywhere?"
> 
>   
> "I...I'm not sure. I dunno." John finished lamely.
> 
>   
> "So the first order of business would be to determine exactly how close you will allow physical contact and which areas are more sensitive than others." Rodney spoke in perfect seriousness, oblivious to how personal his words sounded.
> 
>   
> John felt himself tense at just the thought of what determining this information might entail. "You know, maybe this isn't such a hot idea..." he moved to get up from the chair. Rodney started to reach out to push him back down and then whipped his hand back into a gesture of smoothing down his hair instead. The rapidity of his withdrawal and the absurdity with which he tried to mask his intention amused John and he decided to stay a little longer.
> 
>   
> "Just give me a chance here." Rodney begged. "I tell you what—if at any time you want to stop, you just say so. You can have a safe word if you like; say the word and I quit."
> 
>   
> "A 'safe' word." John reflected on Rodney's proposal. "That sounds vaguely reminiscent of S&M to me. Are you sure you're not trying to tell me something, Rodney?"
> 
>   
> "You'd be surprised at some of the stuff people have on their hard drives." Rodney's grin was pure evil. "And they _do_ keep asking me to fix their computers. What can I say? So, are you good with this?"
> 
>   
>  Was he? He didn't know. The touch thing was bad enough but now the dreams were far worse. Not wanting to bring _that_ up as well for fear of Rodney thinking he was really losing it, he considered that maybe dealing with the one problem might help solve the other. His thoughts wandered as restlessly as his night ramblings, he only knew that he couldn't keep going on the way he had been. He was simply too exhausted. "Yeah, we're good." His voice was quiet.
> 
>   
>  Rodney threw him a skeptical look but apparently took his statement at face value. Over the next 10 minutes or so, he began a methodical assessment of John's tolerance for contact, starting with moving a hand in towards him and noting at what distance John began to get uncomfortable. He kept up a running, muttered commentary during the entire 'mapping' procedure as he referred to it. John could almost believe he was dictating into a recorder, much the way a coroner did during an autopsy. "Okay, most reactive above the waist, very reactive across the chest; major hot zone there. Can touch boots, laces, etc. but not get closer than two inches to reactive areas. Fairly reactive neck and face. Better around the shoulders...hello." He paused. "Get up, get up." He ordered suddenly.
> 
>   
> Relieved to be able to move, John complied without argument. Rodney reversed the chair and motioned for him to sit back down, so as to straddle the seat. When he did so, Rodney began ghosting his hand over the surface of John's back, careful not to actually make contact. "Okay, this is interesting. You're much less reactive here."
> 
>   
> John could feel the heat of Rodney's hand, as it hovered barely a millimeter from the fabric of his t-shirt. He gripped the back of the chair, bracing for impact. Recognizing what he was doing, he forcibly drew a deep breath and released it. "So?"
> 
>   
> "So. So, I'm thinking I should try to actually place my hand on your back here. Are you okay with that? I mean, you're not going to hit me or anything, are you? Because let me tell you, you have a mean right hook. And no one believed me the first time when I said I walked into a door."
> 
>   
> "That's because all the doors here slide open."
> 
>   
> "You didn't answer the question."
> 
>   
> "What? Oh. Okay." John could not help but tense up.
> 
>   
> "Okay? Okay to my touching you or okay to you not hitting me? Because I really need to know before..."
> 
>   
> "Rodney!"
> 
>   
> Before John could turn and glare at him, he felt the sudden warm contact of Rodney's hand between his shoulders and he hissed on an intake of breath.
> 
>   
> "So, did you get a chance to look at that theorem I sent you?" Rodney's voice was very casual, his hand unmoving. John took several deep breaths in and out, knowing what Rodney was trying to do and appreciating the effort.
> 
>   
> Concentrating hard, he said very carefully, "Yes and I sent it back to you. Haven't you seen it?"
> 
>   
> The hand on his back jumped slightly and John almost came out of the seat. Then Rodney spoke with such incredulity in his voice, John realized that he'd become distracted by his own distraction. "You mean to tell me you've completed it? _Already_? That should have taken you weeks to work out. That is so flipping unfair." Abruptly, Rodney moved away and the loss of contact felt to John like he had moved into a shadow from the sunlight. Rodney was opening his laptop and pulling up the email from John, scrolling through the numbers and muttering as he did so.
> 
>   
>  John wheeled himself over to the countertop by pulling the chair forward across the floor with his heels. "Don't let me keep you from anything," he said at last as Rodney continued to ignore him.
> 
>   
> Rodney's head popped up with a jerk and then he had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry. It's just...well, I don't know how you ended up flying choppers in the Antarctic. You should be in a university somewhere."
> 
>   
> They both considered Rodney's statement a moment and then burst out laughing simultaneously. Each time the laughter started to subside, one of them would make eye contact and it would start up all over again. Finally, John waved a hand. "Stop. Stop. You're gonna hurt my feelings if you keep this up."
> 
>   
> "I'm sorry." Rodney wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of one eye with the side of his hand. "I just keep trying to picture you as a college professor...the jacket with the little patches on the sleeves, a pair of wire-framed glasses, scores of dim-witted co-eds signing up for your courses and then needing 'remedial assistance'...but your hair keeps ruining the image."
> 
>   
> "Leave my hair out of this, okay?" He found that he was trying to place himself in the picture that Rodney had drawn and began to snigger again.
> 
>   
> Rodney gave a final snort and then a jaw-cracking yawn. Feeling guilty, John unwound himself from the chair. "Hey, it's getting late. Why don't we call it a night."
> 
>   
> "We didn't get very far." Rodney frowned.
> 
>   
> "No, actually, I think maybe we did. It was a good start at any rate." John started edging towards the door.
> 
>   
> Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine. Right. Whatever." His words lacked their usual bite however. "When you're ready to try again, you know where to find me."
> 
>   
> Several nights later, straight from a shower so cold it left him gasping and shuddering but no nearer to blocking his memories, he dressed in his sweats and sought out Rodney again. Rodney's response had been "Oh good, you're here," and he had been immediately drafted into being a technical assistant. He spent twenty or thirty minutes handing instruments up to where the physicist had wedged himself inside a wall panel as he worked. When he was finally done he reached down and, placing a hand on John's shoulder for support, jumped down from his precarious perch.
> 
>   
> John opened his mouth to say something, but the contact was there and gone so fast that there was no longer a need to react. Besides, it was just Rodney. Rodney packed up his supplies and then appeared to really look at John for the first time. John could tell the moment the realization hit him, it was like watching a light come on. He braced himself for some droll or biting comment, but Rodney surprised him by merely nodding and saying, "Come on, then," as he turned and made his way down the corridor. John followed him back to the lab and hesitated outside the door when it became apparent that Radek Zelenka was also working late. Rodney slowed on entering the room, but then walked over to his workstation and began storing his equipment away.
> 
>   
> "You are up late as well?" The Czech scientist looked even more frazzled than usual, as though he had been running his hands through the halo of hair around his head.
> 
>   
> "Just calling it a night now," Rodney said smoothly. "With the Major's assistance I got the job finished in half the time I thought it would take me."
> 
>   
> "Colonel." Zelenka corrected absently. "Though since it took you over a year to get my name right, it is no wonder you cannot manage to..."
> 
>   
> "Yes, yes, right, right. Be that as it may, I'm trying to convince the _Colonel_ to give up his day job and come to work for us."
> 
>   
>  "The pay is better." Zelenka agreed.
> 
>   
> "And money is _so_ useful here in the Pegasus galaxy. Yes, thank you, Radek. A strong argument, I'll be sure to use that one." Rodney heaved a big sigh and folded his laptop into its carryall. "Are you going to be here a while longer?"
> 
>   
>  Zelenka muttered in his native language before pulling at his hair again.
> 
>   
> "I take that as a 'yes'. Well, good luck to you with that. Colonel?" He cocked his head at John as he pulled abreast of him in the doorway. John raised a hand in a sympathetic salute to Zelenka, who merely grunted and nodded. John fell into step alongside Rodney as he made his way down the hall.
> 
>   
> "I suggest we go to my quarters—unless you would prefer...?" Rodney glanced over at John who merely shrugged and made an 'after you' gesture with his hand. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go back to his own quarters.
> 
>   
> John followed Rodney into his room before halting uncertainly as the door closed behind him. Rodney began charging around the room, sweeping up armloads of clothing and clutter, forcibly stuffing things into drawers already filled to capacity and using the side of his arm to shovel power bar wrappers and trash into a waste basket.
> 
>   
> "Uh, really Rodney, you don't have to..."
> 
>   
> "What? No. Oh, that. No, this is what I do every couple of days. It's just overdue that's all." He finished his hurricane cleaning run almost as soon as he'd started it. "Come in, come in. Sit." He waved a hand in the direction of the bed. John did not move.
> 
>   
> Rodney continued to move about the room, not looking at John as he disappeared briefly into the small bathroom. "I was thinking on the way here, there could be some advantages to doing this here verses in the lab." He was speaking loudly, his voice carrying to John where he stood, tension building in him as he contemplated leaving. There was the sound of cabinets opening and shutting.
> 
>  _This isn't going to work_. John could feel the urge to leave overwhelming him and was just about to speak when Rodney re-entered the room, dressed in a set of shabby, faded navy sweats. He gave a big sigh, rolled his neck around in a circle as though it were bothering him and seated himself on one side of the bed. He motioned for John to join him.
> 
>   
>  Slowly, John made his way to the opposite side of the bed and eased himself onto the mattress. "The way I see it, it might be easier for you to relax if you can lie down. You don't have to do anything at all—just lie on your stomach. If you want me to stop, just say so and I will." As he was speaking, the overhead lights slowly began to dim until just a reading lamp was on. John carefully pulled himself the rest of the way onto the bed and lay down upon it, shifting a pillow underneath his head and resting his forehead along his right arm. He found himself starting to breathe heavily and his left hand gripped the bedspread.
> 
>   
> Rodney did not immediately make any move to touch him. Instead, he shifted his weight until he was seated upon the bed, using the headboard as a backrest. John became aware of a ceaseless murmuring, just on the edge of consciousness at first, and then gradually growing in intensity. He recognized it as the sound of the sea surging at the foundations of Atlantis. He felt his hand relax slightly at the sound. It felt almost as though the city were speaking to him.
> 
>   
> "You like that?" Rodney's voice was quiet. "I taped a couple of hours of it one afternoon and put it on a repeating loop. I like to listen to it when I can't sleep sometimes, though frankly, insomnia is not usually one of my problems. Quite the reverse. Unless, of course, I'm busy. Then all bets are off." Rodney continued to speak, not expecting John to reply; talking about the latest disasters within the city that needed his attention, the projects he was working on now and the ones he would like to get to eventually. John let the words wash over him like the sound of the sea, rising and falling with the cadence of Rodney's breathing. When the touch eventually came, he flinched because he was no longer expecting it, but Rodney's hand just lay still on his back like a warm, friendly cat. Rodney continued to talk and John felt himself relax back into the flow of words again. When Rodney's fingers began to move in small little circles, wandering gently out from the center of his hand, John felt the muscles in his back respond ever so slightly to the touch. When he felt Rodney's weight shift along the mattress, he knew a second hand was about to be added and he was ready for it, tensing, but not flinching when it made contact. His muscles relaxed again with the light movement of Rodney's hands, stilling him into calmness. His breathing slowed, conscious thought ceased.
> 
>   
> When he awoke, his neck was stiff and he felt slightly chilled except for along his right side, where he sensed the presence of someone lying close to him. He levered himself off his forearm, embarrassed at the small puddle of drool he left behind. That had to be some kind of record for him—he had slept soundly for at least five hours by his reckoning. To his right, Rodney lay curled beside him, facing away towards the wall. Sometime during the night, Rodney had pulled a light blanket over the two of them, but now he laid claim to the lion's share of it. John braced himself on his elbows, watching Rodney sleep for a long moment before his back protested at the prolonged arch and he rolled over and sat up.
> 
>   
> It was very early. John knew that Rodney would not wake on his own for several hours yet, and he himself had a list of duties he needed to tackle. Unwilling to wake Rodney yet reluctant to leave without a word, he settled on opening Rodney's laptop and creating a document that contained the single word 'thanks'.
> 
>   
> After that, they fell into a sort of pattern. John would start searching for Rodney around 2200 and once he found him, would help or interfere with whatever project Rodney was working on until he was ready to give up for the night. If that occurred earlier and earlier each evening, neither man commented on it. On entering Rodney's quarters, John would fall largely silent while Rodney made himself comfortable and then both would settle onto the bed. Over time, Rodney had persuaded John to remove his t-shirt for better access to his back. His hands glided over the muscles of John's shoulders and spine as he spoke of whatever was on his mind. More often than not, the two of them would fall asleep, with John waking early and leaving Rodney's quarters before anyone else was stirring. He was averaging four to five hours of solid sleep a night now; it was keeping him functional. One particular evening though, John made the mistake of asking Rodney a question while he worked.
> 
>   
> "Hey." He turned his head to one side so as to be more clearly heard. "You know the night you guys rescued me from Kolya?"
> 
>   
> Rodney's hands stilled briefly and then began to move again, sliding up and down the planes of his back in a continuous wave of motion. Somewhere he'd picked up a lightly scented oil and John could almost feel the muscles in his back turn to jelly at the smell of the oil when he entered the room now. "Yes. What about it?"
> 
>   
> "Why where you there?" John asked absently. Rodney's hands suddenly disappeared from his back.
> 
>   
> "Why was I _there_?" Rodney's voice shot up an octave in outrage, a sound John hadn't heard from him in a while. "What the hell do you mean, why was I there?" John rolled over and looked up into the face of the incensed astrophysicist, who had planted his fists on his hips and was glaring down at him. "Oh, I like that! Why was I there? Why do you _think_ I was there?"
> 
>   
>  John held his hands up briefly in a motion of 'pax'. "Hey, I'm just saying, I was surprised that's all. It's just that..." he trailed off. If anything Rodney looked angrier.
> 
>   
> "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Ronon and Teyla were there, yes? And I don't hear you questioning their presence. Ronon's on your team. Teyla's on your team. I am on your goddamned team. Why _wouldn't_ I be there?"
> 
>   
>  "Ronon and Teyla are trained fighters. Good ones. Hell, with them around, sometimes I wonder why _I'm_ on the team." John tried to make light of the statement, wishing now he'd never brought it up. "Listen, you're certainly much more proficient at weapons and self-defense than when you first started out but you're still not a soldier, Rodney. It was a soldier's mission." He could see that Rodney remained upset. "It's like...like taking a rapier into a gunfight. It's an elegant weapon, but not against guns."
> 
>   
>  "I was there because the _team_ was coming to rescue _you_. I can't believe you of all people would question that; Colonel 'I will leave no man behind' Sheppard." Rodney started to get up off the bed and John reached out and snagged him by the arm. He released his grip as soon as Rodney stopped trying to leave, but both of them sat looking at each other for a long moment before John half-turned away.
> 
>   
>  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's just, well it's like sending your MVP out on a basic play. You don't waste your talent like that." He struggled for a moment to come up with a better analogy. "Like using nitroglycerin to unstop a toilet."
> 
>   
> "Idiot." Rodney's expression was slightly mollified and he pushed John over onto his stomach again and started to massage his back once more. John closed his eyes as the strong fingers worked the oil into his skin, up along his shoulders and into his hairline at the back of his neck.
> 
>   
> "Sorry." He muttered.
> 
>   
> "You should be." He worked his way down John's arm, massaging the oil down along the muscles of his forearms and out into his hand. John half turned again, until he could look up at Rodney.
> 
>   
> "Seriously." He said. Rodney looked at him another long moment, then gently pushed on his shoulder until he was lying on his back this time, facing up. John found himself breathing hard in a way he had not done for many nights. Rodney lifted his hand off the bed and quietly began working on it, holding the palm of John's hand with one of his own and flexing the fingers while he stroked with his thumb up the back.
> 
>   
> "Still okay?" He was moving his way back up the arm and towards the shoulder again.
> 
>   
> John nodded slightly, not trusting his voice. With his free hand, he fisted the bedspread. When Rodney reached the juncture between his neck and shoulder, he couldn't help it; hot tears began to spill out of the corners of his eyes. He heard the soft intake of breath when Rodney realized what was happening and he pulled his arm free of Rodney's grip and flung it over his eyes.
> 
>   
> "Jesus," he said brokenly. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
> 
>   
> "Just guessing here," Rodney said quietly, "but you act like someone who's been raped. Violated, if you prefer that term. It might not have been sexual but it was a savage taking of your strength and your life and you were powerless to stop it. That doesn't sound any different than rape to me."
> 
>   
> John removed his arm from over his face, wiping at his eyes with the heel of one hand. He heaved a big sigh and stared up at the ceiling as he spoke. "It _felt_ sexual. When he gave me my life back. I charmed him and made friends with him and he dr-drove his hand into my chest and it felt like fucking sex when my life came pouring back to me." He pulled up into a fetal position and curled away from Rodney. "My god. I've had sex with a fucking _Wraith_."
> 
>   
>  "O-kay." Rodney's voice held a trace of a 'TMI' tone, then softened. "John. You did what you had to in order to survive. It's nothing short of a miracle that you _did_ survive. And if that's because you're so freaking attractive that even the _Wraith_ like you, well, as in something other than lunch, then there is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you hear me? _Nothing_."
> 
>   
>  John turned to Rodney and reached up to grip his arm. He struggled to sit up partway on his elbows without releasing his hold and then looked up at Rodney intent on trying to make him understand. Rodney stared back at him, concern filling his blue eyes. "Rodney," John said urgently. "I need to feel something else." He pulled Rodney in closer to him, reaching towards him with his mouth as he spoke, whispering the words across the skin of Rodney's jaw. "Make me feel something else."
> 
>   
> "My god, John," Rodney said somewhat shakily. "Do you know what you're asking?"
> 
>   
> John allowed himself to fall back onto the bed, pulling Rodney across his chest as he did so. "I'm asking you to give me new memories. To re-write the software. To record over the images."
> 
>   
> "Okay, okay. I got it. I know what you want," Rodney said somewhat desperately. "But it doesn't have to be _me_. Look, half the women in this city would leap..."
> 
>   
>  "Who you gonna get Rodney?" John's voice was almost unrecognizable now, it was so dark with need. "Elizabeth? Teyla? I don't think so. I trust _you_."
> 
>   
>  John had a split second in which he registered Rodney's eyes dilate like those of a cat in a dark room before Rodney surged up his chest to kiss him. Something inside of him sang ' _yes_!' at the contact and an answering chord seemed to resonate in Rodney as well. His mouth came crushing down on John's at first, bruising lips against teeth until John opened his mouth and Rodney's tongue came sliding in, warm, strong, and unrelenting as it thrust and played alongside his own. The contact caused him to arch his body upwards into Rodney's chest, fingers clenching the soft cloth of his sweat shirt to pull him even closer and Rodney's hands were everywhere, running up and down the sides of his ribs, curling into the base of his neck, running up into his hair, cupping his ass and lifting him even closer to him. He rocked his pelvis slowly against Rodney's own and felt Rodney's response even as he groaned.
> 
>   
>  They broke apart long enough for John to pull the sweat shirt off over Rodney's head and then Rodney dropped his mouth down directly on John's chest. He inhaled sharply and twisted at the contact, but Rodney steadied him with a hand on his neck and began to murmur into his skin as he worked his way across from one dark nipple to the other, pushing his dog tags aside. "My god, you are so fucking amazing." John could barely hear the words as Rodney nuzzled into the hair on his chest. "Like Michelangelo's David. Like Praxiteles' Hermes. You're a work of art."
> 
>   
> Rodney worshipped him with his mouth. There was no other way of describing it. That talented mouth kissed, nipped and licked its way across John's chest, down his abdomen and back up again. He plundered John's mouth again, covering John's body with his own, the two men rocking against each other until Rodney rolled off with a groan and began pulling urgently at John's sweat pants, taking boxers and sweats off with one move. He seemed almost stunned as he looked down upon John, and then he quickly locked eyes with him, uncertain if John still wanted this. John reached up for him with needy fingers, grasping at empty air until they made contact with Rodney's shoulders and could pull him down once more. Another devastating kiss and Rodney began to work his way with mouth and tongue down John's abdomen, lovingly following the line of hair to his groin where his cock strained towards Rodney. Seeking greater contact, John's hands moved over the top of Rodney's head, feathering his hair, caressing the sides of his face.
> 
>   
> When Rodney flicked the tip of his penis with his tongue, John shuddered. "Oh God, Rodney. Don't stop. Please don't stop." Rodney lifted his head and John saw the slow grin and the glitter of desire in his eyes. Then Rodney swallowed him whole, sucking and mouthing as he pulled John deeper into the furnace that was his mouth. Rodney brought him just to the very edge of orgasm before releasing him suddenly and changing his attention to his balls, caressing each one with his tongue and taking them gently in his mouth before releasing them as well, nipping at the flesh of his thighs.
> 
>   
> "Do you trust me, John?" The voice was soft. All at once there was no contact, no heat or warmth at all. "Really trust me?"
> 
>   
> John was rocking blindly with unexpressed need. Rodney's touch was gone and he could not find it. "God yes," he whimpered. "Come back. I need more. More."
> 
>   
> Rodney rolled off the bed, snagged the bottle of oil and was back on the bed so fast the whole mattress shifted sideways. John moaned with relief when Rodney' mouth reclaimed his cock and he had to fight to keep from thrusting into it. He was momentarily startled by the press of Rodney's now slick and slightly cold finger at the rim of his anus and let out a long shuddering 'oh' of exclamation as Rodney worked his finger inside. He froze, clenching against the presence, until Rodney's tongue made him forget what his finger was doing. He gave in to the sensations of Rodney's mouth pulling and sucking on his dick while Rodney's fingers pushed their way into his ass and then suddenly there was a bright spark of light behind his eyes and he arched upwards.
> 
>   
> "Oh god, yes, yes, yes. There. _There_." Rodney angled his fingers to hit that sweet spot with each thrust and he pushed himself forward into Rodney's mouth and back onto his hand until he was gasping with pleasure. He coiled his head and shoulders up off the bed when Rodney rotated his hand and pressed in for a better angle and slammed back against the pillow as Rodney released him again. The sensations inside of him burgeoned upwards and over until he came violently, catching himself off guard, no time to warn Rodney before he did so. Rodney swallowed what he could, then pulled back, head against John's thigh, panting heavily into his leg as John continued to empty himself in hard, jerking pulses.
> 
>   
>  When he was coherent again, John reached out with an unsteady hand to pull Rodney up alongside of him in the bed. Rodney crawled shakily up beside him and brushed John's hands away when they pushed at the drawstring of his sweats. "This isn't just about me. Please Rodney, let me do this for you."
> 
>   
> "You don't have to worry about me." Rodney gave an embarrassed laugh. "I came just watching _you_ come. Night after night of touching you and I have no more self-control than a teenager. Very mature." They lay together in each other's arms, John stroking the back of Rodney's head as if to reassure himself of his presence. After a while, Rodney made to get up off the bed and John tightened his grasp.
> 
>   
>  "Don't go." He hated that he sounded like he was pleading.
> 
>   
> "I'm not likely to. This is _my_ room after all." Rodney sounded tart again, and then softened. "I'm only going to get something to clean us up. You'll thank me for it in the morning." He sounded a little withdrawn with the words but John was feeling too sleepy to think much about them. Rodney seemed to be occupied in the bathroom for a long time before he returned. There was the sound of running water for a while and then it shut off. Rodney briefly stood naked in the doorway, silhouetted in the light before it shut off behind him. _Perfect_.
> 
>   
>  He returned to the bed, bearing a warm, damp towel and a clean dry one. Gently he cleaned John's abdomen and thighs and then tossed the towels onto the floor, crawling into bed beside him, pulling up a light cover over the two of them. John turned into his presence and folded into him, draping his head and one arm over Rodney's chest and insinuating one long leg between Rodney's thighs.
> 
>   
> "Hmmn," Rodney murmured just before the two of them fell asleep. "I've always wanted a Sheppard blanket."
> 
>   
> ****
> 
>   
> When Rodney opened his eyes the next morning, he was looking into coarse, dark chest hair and a set of dog tags. If he squinted, he could read John's name. _Oh shit. John_. He slept with John. He took advantage of his best friend and had sex with him. His head jerked upwards and he looked into those amazing hazel eyes. John was leaning on his left hand, propped on his elbow, lying on his side as he looked down on Rodney. His hair definitely said 'bed head'. As in 'I had crazy wild sex last night' bed head. The smile started on his lips when he knew that Rodney was awake and it extended to his eyes, shining forth until Rodney knew it was reflected back in his own expression. _How could anyone resist John_?
> 
>   
>  "So Rodney." This must be the bedroom voice. Rodney had never heard it before, but he had imagined it. The reality made him shiver inside. John reached out and poked him gently in the chest. "So what else is on those hard drives?"
> 
>   
> fin
> 
>   
> 


End file.
